


Could Be Fun

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Italiano | Italian, Language Kink, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 03:49:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1967829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey, tutto bene – shit, hey, Enjolras, are you okay?”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Enjolras turns back to face Grantaire, smiling at him in the hopes that he’ll just move on and Enjolras won’t have to explain what’s got him blushing like some kind of teenager, “it’s a little hot in here, don’t you think?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Italian

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much to [Serena](http://seagreeneyes.tumblr.com/) for translating parts of this for me! You can read the first chapter with the Italian translations, of the second chapter which is entirely in English.
> 
> TRANSLATOR'S NOTE:
> 
> Hello, this is Serena and I translated the dirty talk in here. Dirty talk in Italian, it turns out, is way harder than expected. So please don’t ask your Italian partners for it, we’ll probably panic and recite the grocery list in really husky voices.
> 
> I asked some of the other Italian tumblr users for advice and I got a really interesting response from user doctorwhowhatwherewhywhen: writing porn in Italian, you either sound like a medical report or you make sailors blush.  
> I went for the blushing sailors… and I did much blushing myself. I’m still blushing. Don’t look at me.
> 
> SO if any Italians are reading, please be aware that if this sounds in any way awkward it is not reflection on the author, because her dialogue was amazing and extremely hot, but rather on me and my poor Italian porn-lingo.
> 
> Being rather more serious, some things are paraphrased or changed slightly so they wouldn’t sound awkward  
> Perdonatemi vi prego, ho fatto il possibile!
> 
> -Sere

 “Hey, R,” Enjolras covers the speaker on the phone as he cranes his neck around to catch sight of Grantaire, “can you pass over that pen, please?”

“Sure.” Grantaire reaches behind him but as his fingers extend towards the pen, he brushes against a nearly-full glass of water, knocking it off the coffee table and spilling it everywhere. “ **Porca miseria** ,” Grantaire hisses, the unconscious slip back into Italian catching Enjolras’ attention far more than a spilt drink could.

Blotches of red bloom on Enjolras’ cheeks as Combeferre repeats his name through the phone, muffled by his palm. “I’ll call you back,” he says hurriedly, hanging up and tossing his phone to the side as he watches Grantaire mop up the mess, muttering Italian under his breath all the while.

Grantaire flicks his eyes up to Enjolras, his brows creasing when Enjolras snaps his head in the other direction, fighting the desire to bury his face in his hands because _Christ, it’s not that big of a deal_. “ **Hey, tutto bene –** shit, hey, Enjolras, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Enjolras turns back to face Grantaire, smiling at him in the hopes that he’ll just move on and Enjolras won’t have to explain what’s got him blushing like some kind of teenager, “it’s a little hot in here, don’t you think?”

“Not really,” Grantaire laughs, shuffling closer to Enjolras and studying his face, which really isn’t fair because Grantaire has always had an intense gaze and the tangible weight of it resting on Enjolras only serves to make him blush more. “The spill wasn’t that bad – _oh,_ is it the Italian? **Potrebbe essere divertente**.”

A low whine escapes Enjolras throat, making the smile broaden across Grantaire’s cheeks. He buries his face in Grantaire’s shoulder, pressing up close enough that it’s like he’s trying to merge into one person. At least then he wouldn’t have to fess up to getting a hard-on listening to his boyfriend speaking his own language.

“ **Sai che sei bellissimo?** ” Grantaire says, his voice surprisingly soft as he gathers Enjolras into his arms and pulls him on to his lap. Enjolras shifts until he’s comfortable, his arms hooked underneath Grantaire’s, clutching the back of his shirt, and his thighs straddling Grantaire’s hips. Heat pools between Enjolras’ legs, the longer Grantaire speaks, and his cock is straining against his jeans in no time. “ **I tuoi capelli sono così morbidi tra le mie dita, ed hai un broncio così carino e ti mordi sempre le labbra, specialmente quando stai cercando di fare il timido, che non funziona mai come vorresti tu, ma lo adoro lo stesso. ‘Sta roba è troppo sdolcinata, quindi probabilmente è meglio che tu non ne capisca una parola**.”

“ _Grantaire_ ,” Enjolras gasps into his neck, mouthing at the skin as his fingers clench into fists around Grantaire’s shirt. He rocks his hips forwards, grinding against Grantaire and moans as the stream of sounds and strung-together phrases reach his ears. The fact that he has literally no idea what Grantaire is saying only makes the whole thing hotter – _fuck_ – Grantaire meets his weak thrusts, grabbing Enjolras’ hips and yanking them flush against his own. “R, I need to –”

“What do you need, Enjolras?” Grantaire whispers, his breath ghosting across Enjolras’ ear, causing goose bumps to erupt over Enjolras’ skin. “Do you need me to make you come? **Sei sempre così voglioso, così facile, per me. Scommetto che potrei farti venire così, farti venire in quel bel paio di mutandine di pizzo che sto che hai addosso ora.**.”

Vaguely, Enjolras is aware of his jeans being unbuttoned, the zip being lowered, and Grantaire’s hand palming him through his underwear, the rough lace creating the most glorious friction against his cock. The fabric is damp near the waist band where drops of precome have soaked into the lace, and Grantaire rubs his thumb over the spot, pressing it against the sensitive head of his cock. Enjolras whimpers freely into Grantaire’s skin, arching into the touch.

“ **Dio, non mi abituerò mai a sentirti gemere per me** ,” Grantaire murmurs, slipping his hand underneath Enjolras’ underwear to uncover his cock, his fist curling around the shaft and pumping it with a careful rhythm. It’s enough to have Enjolras whining and wriggling, but not enough to bring him anywhere near orgasm. Just a steady teasing that’s driving him wild. “ **Sei così sexy così, ogni parte di te che mi prega di farti venire. Scommetto che ti senti così vuoto, ora, una mano sul cazzo non è abbastanza, hai bisogno di qualcosa _dentro_.  Forse mi ti farò anche dopo, ti aprirò e ti terrò fermo e te lo darò così forte che ti scorderai tutto tranne il mio nome.”**

Grantaire’s strokes speed up, his thumb swiping over the tip of Enjolras’ cock, his wrist twisting on upwards strokes, and Enjolras is so, _so_ close to coming and it’s been minutes but Grantaire’s using just the right amount of pressure, and his voice is rough and he’s speaking directly into Enjolras’ ear. The words rocket straight to Enjolras’ cock and he’s coming before he knows what’s happening, sobbing into Grantaire’s shoulder and biting down as he spills all over their chests and Grantaire’s fist.

Pleasure-pain sparks through him as Grantaire keeps toying with his cock, even after he’s come back down, tucking it into his lace and palming him again, still whispering Italian in his ear. Enjolras slips off his lap, a little dizzy as he fumbles with Grantaire’s button, yanking the zip fiercely and practically tearing his cock out of his boxers.

“ _Enjolras_ ,” Grantaire hisses when he takes the head between his lips, sucking and laving his tongue over the slit because it makes Grantaire’s thighs tense.

“Keep talking,” Enjolras pleads, voice hoarse, before diving on to Grantaire’s dick, taking it as far into his mouth as it can go, and then some, moaning wantonly as Grantaire laughs and resumes his narration.

“ **Sei perfetto, Enjolras, non posso crederci, quanto sono fortunato, e Dio, vederti in ginocchio che mi succhi il cazzo, è più di quanto avrei potuto immaginare** **,”** his hands snake intoEnjolras’ hair, a firm weight against the back of his neck, doing little more than tugging gently, no matter how Enjolras wishes he’d hold his head still and fuck his mouth. **“Hai delle labbra fantastiche, giuro, non so dove hai imparato ‘ste cose ma porca miseria meno male che l’hai fatto – _cazzo._ ****Ti amo da morire, Enjolras.”**

It only takes another minute of Enjolras sucking Grantaire off before he’s coming, his hips bucking on the settee as Enjolras swallows what he can, the rest dripping down on to his chin.

“You’re a mess,” Grantaire chuckles, getting to his feet and helping Enjolras stand, wrapping his arms around his waist and dropping a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Will you tell me what you said?” Enjolras guides them to the shower, looking at Grantaire hopefully.

“I can’t remember most of it,” comes Grantaire’s admission. Enjolras deflates a little, but he thinks he picked up some words here and there. “But I do remember saying something about fucking you into the mattress later.”

Enjolras laughs. “I’d be happy with that.”


	2. English

“Hey, R,” Enjolras covers the speaker on the phone as he cranes his neck around to catch sight of Grantaire, “can you pass over that pen, please?”

“Sure.” Grantaire reaches behind him but as his fingers extend towards the pen, he brushes against a nearly-full glass of water, knocking it off the coffee table and spilling it everywhere. “ **Fucking Christ** ,” Grantaire hisses, the unconscious slip back into Italian catching Enjolras’ attention far more than a spilt drink could.

Blotches of red bloom on Enjolras’ cheeks as Combeferre repeats his name through the phone, muffled by his palm. “I’ll call you back,” he says hurriedly, hanging up and tossing his phone to the side as he watches Grantaire mop up the mess, muttering Italian under his breath all the while.

Grantaire flicks his eyes up to Enjolras, his brows creasing when Enjolras snaps his head in the other direction, fighting the desire to bury his face in his hands because _Christ, it’s not that big of a deal_. “ **Hey, are you okay –** shit, hey, Enjolras, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Enjolras turns back to face Grantaire, smiling at him in the hopes that he’ll just move on and Enjolras won’t have to explain what’s got him blushing like some kind of teenager, “it’s a little hot in here, don’t you think?”

“Not really,” Grantaire laughs, shuffling closer to Enjolras and studying his face, which really isn’t fair because Grantaire has always had an intense gaze and the tangible weight of it resting on Enjolras only serves to make him blush more. “The spill wasn’t that bad – _oh,_ is it the Italian? **This could be fun**.”

A low whine escapes Enjolras throat, making the smile broaden across Grantaire’s cheeks. He buries his face in Grantaire’s shoulder, pressing up close enough that it’s like he’s trying to merge into one person. At least then he wouldn’t have to fess up to getting a hard-on listening to his boyfriend speaking his own language.

“ **You’re beautiful, you know** ,” Grantaire says, his voice surprisingly soft as he gathers Enjolras into his arms and pulls him on to his lap. Enjolras shifts until he’s comfortable, his arms hooked underneath Grantaire’s, clutching the back of his shirt, and his thighs straddling Grantaire’s hips. Heat pools between Enjolras’ legs, the longer Grantaire speaks, and his cock is straining against his jeans in no time. “ **Your hair is soft when I run my fingers through it, and you have the cutest pouty lips that you bite too much, especially when you’re trying to be coy and it never works the way you want it to, but I love it anyway. This is a load of sappy shit so it’s probably a good thing you can’t understand a thing I’m saying**.”

“ _Grantaire_ ,” Enjolras gasps into his neck, mouthing at the skin as his fingers clench into fists around Grantaire’s shirt. He rocks his hips forwards, grinding against Grantaire and moans as the stream of sounds and strung-together phrases reach his ears. The fact that he has literally no idea what Grantaire is saying only makes the whole thing hotter – _fuck_ – Grantaire meets his weak thrusts, grabbing Enjolras’ hips and yanking them flush against his own. “R, I need to –”

“What do you need, Enjolras?” Grantaire whispers, his breath ghosting across Enjolras’ ear, causing goose bumps to erupt over Enjolras’ skin. “Do you need me to make you come? **You’ve always been so needy, so easy for me. I bet I could make you come just like this, make you come in those pretty lace panties I know you’re wearing today**.”

Vaguely, Enjolras is aware of his jeans being unbuttoned, the zip being lowered, and Grantaire’s hand palming him through his underwear, the rough lace creating the most glorious friction against his cock. The fabric is damp near the waist band where drops of precome have soaked into the lace, and Grantaire rubs his thumb over the spot, pressing it against the sensitive head of his cock. Enjolras whimpers freely into Grantaire’s skin, arching into the touch.

“ **God, I’ll never get used to listening to you moan for me** ,” Grantaire murmurs, slipping his hand underneath Enjolras’ underwear to uncover his cock, his fist curling around the shaft and pumping it with a careful rhythm. It’s enough to have Enjolras whining and wriggling, but not enough to bring him anywhere near orgasm. Just a steady teasing that’s driving him wild. “ **You look so hot like this, every fucking part of you begging for me to get you off. I bet you’re feeling so empty right now, a hand on your cock isn’t enough, you need something in your arse too. Maybe I’ll fuck you later, tease you open and hold you down whilst I fuck you into the mattress so hard you’ll forget everything but my name**.”

Grantaire’s strokes speed up, his thumb swiping over the tip of Enjolras’ cock, his wrist twisting on upwards strokes, and Enjolras is so, _so_ close to coming and it’s been minutes but Grantaire’s using just the right amount of pressure, and his voice is rough and he’s speaking directly into Enjolras’ ear. The words rocket straight to Enjolras’ cock and he’s coming before he knows what’s happening, sobbing into Grantaire’s shoulder and biting down as he spills all over their chests and Grantaire’s fist.

Pleasure-pain sparks through him as Grantaire keeps toying with his cock, even after he’s come back down, tucking it into his lace and palming him again, still whispering Italian in his ear. Enjolras slips off his lap, a little dizzy as he fumbles with Grantaire’s button, yanking the zip fiercely and practically tearing his cock out of his boxers.

“ _Enjolras_ ,” Grantaire hisses when he takes the head between his lips, sucking and laving his tongue over the slit because it makes Grantaire’s thighs tense.

“Keep talking,” Enjolras pleads, voice hoarse, before diving on to Grantaire’s dick, taking it as far into his mouth as it can go, and then some, moaning wantonly as Grantaire laughs and resumes his narration.

“ **You’re so perfect, Enjolras, I can’t believe how lucky I am, and _God_ , the sight of you on your knees, sucking me off, it’s more than I ever dared to imagine**,” his hands snake into Enjolras’ hair, a firm weight against the back of his neck, doing little more than tugging gently, no matter how Enjolras wishes he’d hold his head still and fuck his mouth. “ **Your lips are divine, I swear, I don’t know where you picked this stuff up but thank the fucking lord you did – _fuck_. I’m so fucking in love with you, Enjolras**.”

It only takes another minute of Enjolras sucking Grantaire off before he’s coming, his hips bucking on the settee as Enjolras swallows what he can, the rest dripping down on to his chin.

“You’re a mess,” Grantaire chuckles, getting to his feet and helping Enjolras stand, wrapping his arms around his waist and dropping a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Will you tell me what you said?” Enjolras guides them to the shower, looking at Grantaire hopefully.

“I can’t remember most of it,” comes Grantaire’s admission. Enjolras deflates a little, but he thinks he picked up some words here and there. “But I do remember saying something about fucking you into the mattress later.”

Enjolras laughs. “I’d be happy with that.”


End file.
